Highway Signs
by PaperFrames
Summary: It has been seven years since Fitz found out about Defiance, and seven years since Olivia Pope became Olivia Davis-Pope, wife and mother. But what happens when Karen invites Olivia to her wedding, and the father of the bride asks Olivia for just one minute of her time? They say time changes everything, can time change love?
1. Old Faces

Disclaimer: I am in love with this show. Especially the character of Olivia Pope. She's flawless, and so is Kerry Washington, aka KW. Shonda is one coldhearted bad biotch. I love her, and thank her for giving, and then torturing me, with this show.

But onto the story, which I own nothing but the storyline, and the OC's.

Its set seven years past Edison's proposal or rather episode 2.13 "Nobody likes Babies". Olivia took his offer, but only after Fitz found out about Defiance and rejected her. Two years later Olivia, moved to upstate New York (Rochester), to live life as perfect little housewife (two children included). She still owns OPA; and it is still called OPA, but Harrison is head of the firm; he only calls Olivia in when he direly needs her.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_When we were young, oh, oh, we did enough  
When it got cold, ooh, ooh, we bundled up  
I can't be told, ah, ah, it can't be done_

_-The Lumineers "Stubborn Love"_

She wasn't certain how long she'd been nursing the glass of Pinot Noir in hand. Hours, minutes, seconds? She couldn't be sure, but for some reason Olivia found her eyes drawn to the burgundy liquid, even more so as she swirled it to and fro, finding peace in the aroma. The liquid was sweet, but at the same time there rested a tart edge, and the smell of tealeaves – a touch of leather. And Olivia found herself at ease. Often, at times, she'd wondered if she had a drinking problem – even more so when considering how much she actually drank wine: a glass with dinner, a glass to unwind, a glass to celebrate. But those thoughts sat idly in the back of her mind. She could function without alcohol. Without wine, she could live. If living was what she'd been doing all these years. Could a half-life, with half of a heart even be considered living at all? A heart so worn and tattered that she guarded it for all it was worth. And like all precious gems lesser in clarity, it wasn't worth a lot. Half of a heart didn't go for much. So Olivia had sold hers for safety and normalcy. Jam and babies in the countryside.

And seven years down the line she should have had every reason to smile: Two children, a beautiful house, and a successful husband. Even more reasons to smile today considering it was a day for festivities, a day to celebrate. Karen was a beautiful bride, and her wedding, even more so: classic with a touch of modernity. The cliché saying 'a vision in white', couldn't have been more truer for the young woman Olivia had met at sixteen years old, the spitting image of her mother, but with her father's grey eyes and smile.

Yet, Olivia couldn't bring herself to be overly joyed. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed D.C until she'd stepped off the plane from upstate New York, and into chaos. Former first daughter Karen Fitzgerald's wedding was the talk of the town, drawing photographers and journalists from everywhere. Olivia had told herself that she'd only shown on behalf of the Davis family, in an effort to show bipartisanship under the guise of celebration. Politics were forever about appearances, smoke and mirrors.

Never mind the fact that once she'd learned Edison had been called away to a UN meeting she'd rethought her dress six times, and chose a better smelling perfume. Hoping, as she stood in the mirror in Harrison's office (which had once been hers) that after two children, endless diapers, karate lessons, PA meetings, bake-sales, and tap dance that she still had her looks.

Once more she swirled the burgundy liquid around in her glass, and then brought it to her lips, sipping from it. Setting it back down, she adjusted the thin – yet elegant – silver chain that hung around her neck, and turned her attention toward the dance floor. A half smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes crept across her face as she watched Karen and her new husband twirl together; their first dance as husband and wife. The longer she watched, the more melancholy she felt her mood grow, much to her dismay.

Happy. She had to be happy, she quickly reminded herself as her eyes swept across the room. There were so many people she could, and should have been conversing with: senators, representatives, ambassadors, and many more. But there was once person in particular she knew she shouldn't have wanted to see . . .

"Hello, Livvie." A deep baritone voice sounded from behind her. She knew it all too well; her heart skipped a beat, and then fluttered, coming to life for the first time in a long time. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she took a deep, yet hopefully inconspicuous breath. A wish she hadn't even realized she'd made come true.

"Hi – uhm – Mr. President," she greeted, her eyes bright as she fought to keep her heart from drumming right out of her chest. She extended her hand for him to shake, but instead of doing so, he brought it to his lips, and kissed it.

If possible, the heat rose even higher in her cheeks. Part of her wanted to snatch her hand back, the other part revealed in his familiar touch. His lips had once been on every inch of her body, from the most private of places, to the most noticeable, marking her body as his. He threw her a mischievous smile, and then let his hand linger a little too long in hers, as he stood up straight.

"I haven't been the president in a bit, Liv. No need to address me as so, even in public." Fitz said as his thumb passed over the wedding band and ring sitting on her index finger. There was a flash of something in his eyes as he did so.

With slight reluctance Olivia eased her hand from his grasp, and let it fall into her lap, reuniting with its mate, as she crossed her hands.

"Just a couple years, and it's a formality, respect – necessity," countered Olivia with a tilt of the head.

"A lot changes in two years, Liv, what was once necessity isn't any more, like formalities for the sake of appearance . . ."

"Fitz . . ." Olivia started, her gut sensing a deeper conversation on the horizon his gray eyes bore down on her. He was the only person who could make her squirm like a teenage girl sitting too close to the boy she fancied, instead of the forty-two year old woman she was.

"And where's Mr. Davis on this beautiful night? Young love is in the air unbridled by heartbreak and missed opportunities. He should be here to celebrate; much to my dismay he was invited, after all." Fitz spoke, a slight bitterness present in his voice. Olivia parted her lips to speak, but stopped short as Fitz started began talking once more.

"God, I don't think I've ever seen Karen this happy. Look at her out there . . ." Fitz broke off, turning his attention to the dance floor a few feet from where Olivia was sat. The majority of the other occupants at the various tables had already joined the party on the dance floor, including Olivia's tablemates, Cyrus Beene, James Novak, and their daughter, Ella Beene-Novak.

"Karen looks beautiful. And Malcolm seems like an amazing guy. I've gotten the chance to speak with him only for a few moments, but I promised him that if he hurt her, I'd dismantle him . . ." She spoke, only half joking, as she chose not to answer his question in regards to Edison.

"I already promised him that his parents would never find a body; I know a guy, a friend of a friend . . ." Fitz wiggled his brows, a small smile on his face. "Just wait until Elizabeth is up there, and you're behind enemy lines, trying your best to let go . . ."

"She's six, I don't want to think about her getting married quite yet. Between her piano lessons, karate lessons, and tap dancing, I feel like I'm already loosing her."

"Sounds just like her mother; multitasking in baby Parda shoes?"

"_Prada_; and if she ever heard you call her a baby, you'd get the run down like there was no tomorrow. 1. She's not a baby. 2. By insistating – her version of insinuating – that she's anything other than a big girl you're being a meanie. 3. Only boys can be babies – which is what she insists everyone call her brother. 4. Babies don't do karate or play piano, so she must be a big girl. 5. She is Elizabeth Evelyn Pope-Davis, and by definition she is a big girl." Olivia giggled, a wide smile stretching across her face as she talked of her daughter.

Although Olivia knew it was wrong, she couldn't help but love the time she spent with her daughter a little bit more than that with her son. It wasn't that Olivia didn't like her son; she loved him. But things had been different when he was born. She hadn't quite taken to him like she had Elizabeth – or Ellie – as the little girl preferred to be called.

"So she's exactly like you, then?"

"I like to think I've lightened up over the years . . . ."

Just then a voice echoed through the air, amplified by the aid of a microphone.

_President Grant, please report to the dance floor. Your daughter is demanding a dance and she promises that she won't make you do the Hustle. . . _

"Looks like I'm being summoned by own demanding darling," joked Fitz as he reached a hand into the breast pocket of us his black jacket, and pulled out a card, setting it down on the table. He looked at Olivia, and then down at the card. "Miss Pope . . ." He nodded and then walked into the spotlight that had summoned him to Karen, a grin on his face. Two agents, who Olivia hadn't realized were with Fitz, found their way to the edge of the dance floor, and Luther Vandross "Dance with My Father" began to play.

Olivia looked around, watching the crowd as her hand timidly reached for the card Fitz had set down. Once she was certain that no one was paying her any attention, she snatched the card back, and held it tightly in her lap.

What was she doing? It'd been seven years since she'd really seen Fitz, and seven since they'd really been alone together. She was a married woman with two children, a boring – yet adoring, in his own way husband, and a life that she had assured her self that she wanted. Whatever this card was, she couldn't do this. Could not.

Once again her eyes swept round the room, and she took a deep breath. Suddenly the emerald green Elie Saab gown she'd chosen for its light material felt suffocating, and stifling. Her fingers shook as she turned the card over in hand; it was a room key.

Wrapped around the key was a yellow sticky note:

_Liv, meet me in room 503 at 10. I promise I won't keep you long. I just need a minute. Just one minute, please. _

_–Fitz_

She read the words thrice before closing her hand, the card still inside. Her palms began to sweat, her pulse racing, and her heart threatening to jump through her mouth. Once more Olivia's eyes darted about the room, perhaps for the thousandth time that night. She reached for her clutch on the table, and then rifled through it, searching for the watch she hadn't worn, but forever carried with her. 9:23 p.m. Thirty-seven minutes was all she had to decide if she was going to go down this road again. Thirty-seven minutes.


	2. Prelude to a Reckoning

Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing but the story line, and the OC's. Everything else belongs to Shonda!

A/N: I'm completely and utterly floored by the response this story has received. Thank you all so much! Your words mean a great deal, and I really hope you're prepared to go #OverACliff with me because its always the darkest before the dawn, and its about to get dark!

Also, I believe in Aristotle politics of story telling and I feel like I should tell you now that this story takes place within a 24 hour time span even though its a chapter story. I'll probably do a sequel, however because these two are never done.

Expect updates to be much slower after this. Sorry!

**HAPPY SCANDAL THURSDAY! **

Hope you enjoy!

Saludos,

M

* * *

_It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all  
The opposite of love's indifference  
So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out  
And I won't leave until you come downstairs_

The walk to and the subsequent ride up the elevator left both Olivia's thoughts, and stomach twisted in knots. She'd counted each step to the lift twice, some thrice, as she contemplated just exactly what she was doing; was she really going to open old wounds? Half of her had no qualms about the steps she currently took, the familiar feel of the smooth pull of the elevator as the floor numbers flashed overhead. The other half of her screamed, begged, and pleaded for her to turn around, that it wasn't too late; think of her children, her husband.

A war wage within Olivia, each side holding its own as the elevator dinged, signaling that she'd reached the fifth floor. The card clutched tightly in her grasp, the sticky note attached to it now moist, a mixture between perfume (Chanel no.5) and sweat smearing the familiar penmanship.

Her thoughts were erratic as her six-inch black lace peep toe Jimmy Choos carried her forward.

What was she doing?

The normally sharp clack of her heels was muffled against the carpeted floor as her eyes darted across the doors, looking for room 503. She wasn't sure what elevator, or direction she'd come from, but the room numbers were in the teens. Yet she continued on, the numbers growing smaller as she replayed old memories in her mind. She knew coming tonight alone, wouldn't end well. She should have cancelled; told Karen that Elizabeth or Owen had been sick, and then apologized; opting instead to spend a chilly January's night inside reading stories to her children, curled up next to her own mother. But here she was. Too late to turn back, too hard to go forward, but she knew she had to.

One memory in particular surfaced as she sought any sane portion of her mind that was free from Fitz's hold, a small portion of her brain that still sought logic, and that could tell her to turn around and run. That portion of her brain had been calling the shots for seven years, reminding her constantly that she had it all.

_Just go to your room and close the door. We'll pretend this never happened. Go. _A flash of Broken lamps, heated kisses, and rather Sultry demands flashed across her eye lids causing Olivia to grow flush.

What was she doing?

'_Go Olivia, go back down stairs, congratulate Karen, and go_', she mentally berated herself, her hands shaking, the card digging into her palm as she took a deep breath in, finding herself standing in front of room 509; six away from her mark.

Yet Olivia continued straight ahead. _'You haven't talked to him - really talked, in years. You owe him this much. One minute that's it. One minute.' _

'_But if you give him one minute, Olivia, he's going to want more. You can't give him any more; you're a mother, a wife!' _

Slowly but surely Olivia felt as if her head was going to implode. Each side had a valid argument, but she could only agree with one.

Suddenly she found herself in front of room 503. The rhythmic pounding of her chest drowning out both voices. Seven years. They hadn't been alone in seven years. Her brown eyes fell to the card in hand as she clutched it, and her clutch to her chest. It was now or never. What was it going to be?

She inserted the card into its awaiting slot and watched as the light turned green, and then listened as the lock clicked, signaling that the door was ready to be opened.

For a few moments she just stood in place, her eyes drawn to the gold handle of the door as memories flashed through her mind, ranging from long lustful nights, to intellectually stimulating conversations. For seven years she'd managed to delude herself into thinking that she did not miss Fitz, and that he wasn't hers to miss. Yet the moment he'd asked her for a minute of her time, here she was.

The door handle turned, and Olivia found herself entering the dimly lit room, immediately pulling the door closed behind her.

She was a damned woman, had been for years.

"Fitz?" Olivia called into the translucent darkness, but no answer came. She walked farther into the room, noticing rumpled clothes (sweat pants and a Navy logo gray t-shirt) on the floor near the bed. Next to the king size bed, stacked with down pillows and a lavish duvet, sat a nightstand. On the nightstand, an alarm clock reading 10:13 p.m.

The usually punctual Olivia Pope was late! Thirteen minutes to be exact. All that internal debating she'd done; had it caused her to miss Fitz?

Whatever had happened, Olivia knew that this was her out, her time to escape, and the last chance she had to turn back. Abruptly she turned on her heels, her hand grasping the handle; she was leaving; this was her out.

But as she did so, the door opened. Olivia yanked her hand back as if the door handle had been on fire. In Fitz strolled, his gait just as distinguished as ever.

"I honestly didn't think you'd come. Cy said you'd left, but he didn't say in which direction," he started, shutting the door behind him. "Or were you leaving?"

Eyes wide, expression reading 'deer caught in the headlights', Olivia fought to find some semblance of speech. Since when did Olivia Pope become tongue-tied?

"I was, I was just – you're late." Olivia countered, pursing her lips as she fought to find her confidence. "You said one minute, I was here where were –"

"My daughter asked for another dance. I don't deny my children. If they asked for the moon I'd find a way to pull it down."

"Well, that's a valid reason. But I agreed to meet you hear, not spend the night waiting." Olivia stated as she looked up in realization of just how close they'd been standing to one another. Fitz had opened the door just as Olivia had prepared to leave. Now they stood maybe a foot and a half apart. Noticing this, Olivia took a step back, the key card still clutched tightly in her right hand, her purse in the other.

"Still the same Livvie, never bothering to breath before launching into attack mode."

"Look Fitz, you asked me for one minute. I'm here. Now what?"

"I wanted to talk to you, just for a bit – catch up somewhere were we wouldn't be interrupted or bothered. Were we could be alone. Please," Fitz pleaded, his large form towering over Olivia as he threw her his boyishly charming smile.

Olivia nodded. '_Deep breath in, and then let it out; its just a smile_' She told herself, stepping back once more and farther into the room.

"No presidential suite?" Olivia asked as she averted her eyes away from him, especially his smile, and let them roam about the rather modest room.

Fitz walked past her, over to the bed, and then sat down on the edge.

"I'm no longer the president. I Don't need it. Frankly I don't think I ever did." He responded as he undid the cuff links on his tux, and set them next to the clock on the nightstand.

"I don't think you wanted to talk to me about your hotel room."

"You asked, I answered. I bared my soul, and you changed the subject. Why are you in such a hurry?"

Olivia contemplated his question, all the answers hanging on her tongue (some nothing short than sinful), but none making their way to her vocal cords aside from the obvious, "My children, they're with my mother and Huck. I told her I'd be back by 11 to get them."

"Elizabeth Evelyn, age six, and . . ." he paused, slipping off his jacket and throwing it on the bed, then standing, placing his hands in his pockets. "Owen Jameson; age 4. Edison, Elizabeth, Olivia, and Owen . . .. How charming. Daughter takes after her father, and the son, his mother. That was a beautiful Christmas card you sent, by the way. Mellie made sure it ended up on my desk . . ."

Olivia's brows furrowed together, an indiscernible look falling across her face as she heard Mellie's name. With a deep breath in, Olivia fought to find the right words to say. None came to the surface as she stared at Fitz.

"Elizabeth is beautiful . . . spitting image of her mother, except her skin tone is just a couple shades lighter – and her eyes are like honey . . ."

"Fitz - "

"Owen's almost identical to Edison except he has your nose and eyes . . ."

"Fitz -"

"I knew you wanted practicality, normalcy, but I never thought . . ."

"That I'd get tired of being your punching bag- I'd get tired of waiting for a non-existent fairy-tale?"

"That you'd really cut me from your life."

"Fitz, I told –"

"Is she mine?"

"Excuse me?" An incredulous look of disbelief contorted Olivia's features and she narrowed her eyes. "Is who yours?"

"Elizabeth, Olivia, your daughter. Look, tonight is not the night to play dumb with me. It doesn't suit you. It's been seven years and I'm finally ready to talk, to get things out and in the open. Defiance, Mellie, Teddy, Verna, everything - I'm ready!" Fitz stated, a tone of indignation, laced with a thirst to prove him self mixed within it. He strolled toward Olivia, looming over her.

"And what if I'm not ready, Fitz? What about me? What if I don't want to go down this road again?" Olivia replied, indignant, and took a step back; she folded her arms in front of her.

"You wouldn't have come then, Liv. Now, I asked you for a minute, and I'm getting my minute."


	3. Truth's Circles

**A/N:** So sorry about the slowness in updates! I've internet-less for about two weeks, and I'm about to be internet-less for a whole month. I'll be leaving the country for a bit. I promise to try and get up at least two more updates before I leave, however. Now, this chapter really kicked my ass, won't lie. I had a projected path, but literally had to force myself to get there. Wasn't easy, and I'm still not happy with it. Perhaps I'll rewrite it. For now, though, just to show that I am committed to this story, here you go! Thank you for all your lovely reviews, and inquiring/lovely messages.

Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own Scandal.

Also, this Thursday's Scandal just may kill me! Hot damn!

* * *

Chapter 3: Truth's Circles

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_  
_I never knew daylight could be so violent_  
_A revelation in the light of day_  
_You can't choose what stays and what fades away_

_-"No Light, No Light" 'Florence + the Machine._

Moments passed, and silence pervaded the air. Olivia stared at Fitz, knowing that it was time, time to lay everything out. No more secrets, no more lies; everything needed to be said. It'd been seven years of foolishness, seven years of stubbornness, seven years of calling just to hang up; it was time.

But smaller questions needed answering before any parlays into conversations that could – and probably would level the hotel were to be had. Small steps had to be taken first.

Time ticked by slowly. Fitz's grey eyes met Olivia's brown orbs, and they both took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly, in sync.

Fitz's questioned weighed heavily on Olivia's heart, and she knew that she had to come clean. But what exactly was she coming clean about?

Though nothing had yet to be said, tears began to form in Olivia's eyes, and her throat grew hoarse as she attempted to keep them at Bay. Fitz had been right, had she not wanted this conversation, this reckoning, she would not have come. She had to do this.

Defiance, Elizabeth, Edison, everything; it was time.

Surprisingly enough, and without a push from Fitz, Olivia was the first to break the silence, tearing her eyes away from Fitz's. She turned them to the ceiling and sighed, speaking.

"Why now? Why _seven_ years later?" Her voice threatened to crack, and flashes of arguments with Edison in regards to where Olivia's heart truly lay blazed through her memory. She could hear Edison's voice promising that he could love her just as her mystery man had, if only she'd let him. But she could never let him. Even after two kids, she still had had a hard time letting her husband in. Every moment she spent with him was a half-life.

"Do you realize," Fitz started, his eyes still locked on Olivia, the intensity in them never waning, only softening slightly, "that this is the first time in almost seven years that we've been completely and utterly alone?"

Of course Olivia had. There'd been plenty of many nights when she'd wished her bed to be occupied by the man in front of her instead of her husband. There'd been plenty of times when she'd been alone for the sake of being alone and had wished for Fitz's company. There'd been state dinners she'd accompanied Edison to, where she'd dream of being whisked off to rose gardens.

"Last time we were alone, Fitz – utterly and completely - I remember that I walked away feeling something close to a – your – whore." Olivia bit back, shoulders square as she brought her gaze back to his eyes, managing to stave off the tears.

It'd been messy, and it'd been passionate, but most of all it'd been the last time she and Fitz had slept together. It'd happen a few days after Verna's funeral. Olivia had found herself inside the White House walls on behalf of Cyrus. The sting of Fitz's not too distant rejected still grated against her skin, a feeling worse than a sharp backhand to the face, when she'd found herself being dragged into one of the endless escape tunnels of the White House. Fitz barreled over her, chest heaving, and hurt in his eyes. She'd tried then to explain defiance to him, but to no avail.

Their coupling was far from the magic that'd left Olivia panting, grinning, and head over heels deeply in love. It'd been filled with hate, animosity, and hurt, leaving Olivia feeling like filth as endless apologies, and pleas of forgiveness flew from her tongue, and then died on deaf ears (eventually propelling her into Edison's open arms).

_I may not be able to control my erections around you, but we're done. _

That'd been the day Olivia decided that Edison was safe, easy. No chance of heart break, no more feeling like there was an ice-cold hand placed against her heart. No more stolen moments. She could hold Edison's hand in public; she could bear his children without the taboo of bastard status hanging over their head.

"I am sorry for what I said to you. You don't know how many times I've gone back and forth with myself, then and now, about those words. I hated you Olivia; I loathed you. But what's worse, I hated how much I missed you; I needed you. And then you were gone – you walked out of my life, to _him_." There was a tone of disbelief and hurt laced with disgust present in Fitz's voice as he spoke. "Did you walk away with Elizabeth that day?"

Olivia's eyes swept about the room and she turned away from Fitz, turning her back on him as his words filtered through her thoughts, tearing through memories. She didn't know what to say to him about Elizabeth, at least not yet. Some things needed to be said first.

"You'd made it clear I was nothing more than your mistress that day Fitz, and I couldn't put my life on hold any more. I told you over and over how wrong Defiance was. But you never let me explain why I did it. You had no interest in hearing me out."

"I've asked you a question, twice now, Liv. Are you going to answer me? Is Elizabeth m—"

"I'm going to answer everything, Fitz. But I have to explain myself first. I _need_ to explain myself first. I've been waiting seven years to do so, same as you. Please." Olivia turned back toward Fitz as she finished her sentence, blinking profusely as she fought tears, her voice barely level. But she was still the exact same Olivia Pope, trying her best to not crack, to hold up under pressure.

"Once again, everything has to be done on thee Olivia Pope's turn." Fitz sniped with a tilt of his head, and a low dark chuckle. This time he turned his back on her and walked toward the bed, and then threw himself down on it, leaning against the headboard. "This is Olivia Pope's world, I'm just a spectator."

"What's that suppose to mean?" snapped Olivia, her eyes flaring as her voice cracked. She was trying to reckon with him, give him what he wanted, and yet he couldn't even give her a chance to explain.

"You ruined me, Olivia. You destroyed me with Defiance, and you still can't let me lead. You still can't let me do things on my terms."

"I destroyed myself, Fitz. I did it because I didn't want you to self-destruct. I did it because you deserved to be president. I didn't because I didn't want you to think that Big Jerry was right. I did it for you!"

"Bullshit. You let Cyrus into your mind; you let Mellie's ambition, and Hollis' greed, and Verna's tunnel vision get to you, and you forgot about me in the process!"

"Don't give me that. Don't give me that at all. You're the only person I gave a damn about when it came to the vote. I could only think about you, and what it'd do to you if you didn't win! What you would lose!"

Olivia's resolved cracked; the white of her eyes grew red as she took a deep breath, and tried aimlessly to look anywhere but at Fitz. His eyes were her weakness; they were the entrance to his soul, and if she looked at them, she'd know just how hurt he was.

"You don't fix me, Olivia! I am not someone you fix. I wouldn't have lost a damn thing had I not won that election. I would have walked away with a smile on my face. I would have walked away with you!"

"It was never that simple, Fitz." Olivia shot back, two tears slipping down each side of her face as she tried to blink them back. _Gladiators don't cry. Gladiators don't cry_, she told herself. "I didn't want to be the reason you had nothing; I wanted you to have the world."

"Was it that simple when you married, Edison? That's why you married him, right? Because it was simple."

"Nothing is ever that simple, but you didn't love me any more. And I couldn't keep holding out hope that you would want me again. I couldn't—"

Olivia's words were cut short as she found Fitz walking towards her, on his feet once more. He approached her slowly; causing Olivia to stand stock still as she begrudgingly met his grey eyes. "It's been seven years Olivia, and in those seven years I never once stopped loving you." He cupped her cheek with his right hand, and used his thumb to wipe away the stray tears that fell.

The gesture was soft and tender, inwardly causing Olivia to melt. There were many things that Olivia could say she missed about Fitz; there was the mind blowing sex, the inside jokes, the love of history, but it was the small touches, the small caresses that they'd shared that Olivia had truly missed.

"You never gave me a chance to pull myself together before you married him. At that point I didn't know what was worse, the fact that you didn't believe in me, or the fact that you married Edison." Fitz dropped his hand and turned away from Olivia.

When Fitz recoiled his hand, Olivia shuddered slightly; the feel of his touch had been so warm, and so inviting. And though chaste in nature, she craved more. Seven years and old feelings couldn't be ignored; they were too strong, but she had to fight them. She was a married woman; she had children.

"You stopped loving me after you realized I wasn't this angel on a pedestal – something I never claimed to be. Something I knew I wasn't. You knew who I was when I stepped into that town hall." Hastily she tried to construct a mental barrier between them, and then a physical one as she took a step back, the material of her gown swaying as she did, and repeating her previous statement, one Fitz had already asserted as false.

Their conversation was erratic, a mixture of anger, hurt, sadness and most of all pain illuminating their words. Each had so much to say, but neither truly able to create a linear path of discussion.

"I will never stop loving you, Olivia Carolyn Pope! You are in my blood. I am nothing without you. Do you know what I did when Cyrus told me you'd married Edison? I drank myself to sleep. Do you know what I did after that? I drank some more, and even more until I was falling down drunk!"

"Fitz," Olivia started, opening her mouth to speak but stopping just shy. Why hadn't Cyrus told her? He'd called to check on her children, called to congratulate her, and even called to gossip, but he'd never been candid about Fitz. Even when Olivia did ask about Fitz her replies had been stunted, short – as if scripted.

"I threw up on the Israeli prime minster, Olivia, because I was so drunk. You took everything from me, just to fix me."

"I'm sorry. Defiance was wrong. I was wrong. But I did it; I did it for you. And you went on to prove that you could – and did – win the white house on your own."

"I did." Fitz repeated, nodding. There was a sense of pride that made it way into his voice, although only for a second, the hurt and pain quickly returning.

"You asked me why I waited seven years. It's simple. Every time I got up the courage to call you, to ask you back to D.C to come see me, I stopped myself. I told myself over and over again that you didn't love me anymore. That you had a husband, kids. . . I couldn't take you away from your kids. It was never the right time. And then Mellie gave me that stupid card."

"And you saw Ellie."

"I saw her. And all I could think of was how I let seven years pass by without connecting the dots, without putting two and two together because of how stupid I'd been; my selfish pride. But I couldn't deny how much you hurt me, and in turn I hurt you."

"It's not—" she started, her heart heavy as fought to find a way to sort out what she wanted to say next.

"That simple." Fitz finished her thought, and raised his brows, speaking slowly as he did. "Is she mine, Olivia? Please, just tell me."

With a deep breath in, Olivia spoke, her voice wavering as she did so. Three words, one contraction, three syllables rolled from her tongue, tears falling down her cheeks once more. "I don't know."


	4. Heart-lines and Headaches

**A/N:** So, I won't be getting two updates in before I leave, sadly. This will be the last update for just a little bit, sorry! I will write all Sunday, however, and see if I have something at least half way presentable. I can't guarantee anything, however. I have so much to do before I head off next Saturday. But I changed the ending of this chapter, just for ya'll. I didn't quite leave it on my normal cliff-hanger. I didn't want anyone trying to kill me just in case this was my last update for a bit. Also, still don't know if I'm happy with this chapter, but here ya go!

I won't even get into the f**kery that was the Scandal season finale; all i'll say is great performance by the cast - especially by Katie, Guillermo, and Bellamy! Tony and Kerry were perfect, as always.

**Disclaimer**: If I told you I owned Scandal, I'd be lying straight through my teeth.

* * *

Chapter 4: Heart-lines and Headaches

Would you leave me,

If I told you what I've done?  
And would you need me,  
If I told you what I've become?  
'cause it's so easy,  
To say it to a crowd  
But it's so hard, my love,  
To say it to you out loud

-Florence + The Machine "No Light, No Light"

The falter in Fitz's footing did not go unnoticed, especially to Olivia's eyes as she took note of his sagging posture. Her words had hit him like a ton of bricks, shaking him to the core of his being. The expression that spread across his face was indiscernible to Olivia as her lips parted and something between a sob and a sigh fell from her lips.

"Fitz," she whispered, offsetting herself as she tried to find a way to pull some semblance of an explanation together. Any words that made their way to her lips felt inadequate, and in a way, almost salacious.

She'd been going back and forth with herself for years about Ellie's possible true parentage; making excuses for the reddish caramel tone of her daughter's skin. She'd (Olivia) reassured herself with the fact that her grandmother on her mother's side was creole, which made her mother half creole, and Olivia a ¼, and therefore that fact could attest to Ellie's skin tone. When Ellie would turn a certain way, or even make a certain comment, in Olivia's gut there would arise a sharp feeling, a feeling of familiarity and nostalgia. A feeling that Olivia would squash by taking note of the similarities between Ellie and Edison's posture or disposition, along with the smile that would cross Ellie's face (as Olivia's fell) when Edison would walk into the room.

"You don't know . . ." his voice was low, almost childlike as his grey eyes watered. "You don't – Liv – Olivia."

In a low, barely audible voice, Olivia answered Fitz's floundering words, "I was with Edison shortly after we were together . . ."

The grimace that crossed Fitz's face did not go unnoticed by Olivia, whose stomach had twisted itself into a ball of knots.

She breathed in, shaking her head, as she attempted to find the right words to say next.

"And the doctor said that the two dates were too close together to say who was the father for certain, and I'd already accepted Edison's proposal. We'd just gotten back together and we'd almost finished planning the wedding – Abby had these stupid center pieces all set, and Huck was running endless background checks on Edison and . . ." the words tumbled from Olivia's full lips, one after another until she was forced to breath again; she hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath; fast talking wasn't exactly her thing anymore, not unless it had to be. Arguing with a six year old at warp speed only led to headaches and frustration.

"I tried to call you, Fitz. I tried. I picked up the phone, I dialed your secure line, and I hung-up. I didn't even let it ring once. Cyrus told me that you were actually trying to make things work with Mellie – and I had to accept that. You were my past, and I thought – I _needed_ –to go forward." Olivia continued on, attempting to explain her thought process nearly seven years prior. The irony being that she hadn't even understood it. "Say something, please . . . ."

"I stared at that card for hours, going from your face to Ellie's. There was something familiar in her features . . ." Fitz spoke softly, at her beckon; he turned his back on Olivia, and looked toward the ceiling. "Her smile reminded me of Karen's at that age, and those eyes . . ."

Olivia nodded knowingly, her bottom lip quivering, waves of tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She swallowed, hard, forcing – or at least attempting to force back her tears. "She's a little enchantress; her smile, her eyes. I can watch her for hours at a time."

Shaky and nervous, Olivia reached out to touch Fitz's arm, wanting to comfort him, steel the pain of her actions, but stopped just short. Physical contact between them always had a way of igniting a firestorm of emotional, unbridled passion. She let her hand fall to her side, and sighed deeply.

Oh how she wished that she'd just opted out of this event, given Karen her apologies and explained that she had to tend to Ellie and Owen. But as much as she wished to be elsewhere at the moment, she knew that this conversation, this reckoning was long overdue.

"But she's not mine?" he questioned, his brows raised as his eyes met Olivia's.

"I don't know. I don't, Fitz. I've gone back and forth with myself about our moment together, and I know we were safe, but then Edison and I were together, and we were, too…but you and I are – were – more physically, and Edison, I just—" she stumbled over her words as Fitz spoke, cutting her explanation short.

"I don't want to hear about you and Edison having sex, Olivia. Spare me the details." Fitz retorted, turning back around to face Olivia. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and his brows furrowed together, his forehead wrinkling under the strain of their current conversation.

"Fitz . . ." Olivia started, unsure what to say next.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His question was simple in structure, but complex in nature; it was a question that Olivia had been fighting herself on since everything had unfolded years ago.

"Because I didn't know, and I didn't trust my gut anymore, and you were already looking at me like I was some disgusting thing you'd found in a sewer. I didn't want you to look at my child that way." Immediately after the words fell from Olivia's lips, she felt guilty for their implications, but before she had the chance to backtrack and apologize, Fitz's voice echoed through the room, his bravado gruff as he caused Olivia to jump. His words were heavy with anger, with sadness, and most of all with hurt.

"Don't_ ever_ insinuate that I don't love –that I couldn't love my children, Olivia. Ever. No more how they were created." He took a step towards her, her heart thumping wildly in his chest as his eyes met hers.

Olivia's bottom lip quivered and she attempted in vain to blink back tears. She thought of earlier that day, as she'd gotten ready at OPA. Owen had ran amuck with Huck through the office, Harrison at the helm while Ellie stood next to Olivia in the mirror, helping her mom get ready. Ellie's bright brown eyes danced as she touched the fabric of Olivia's dress. The young girl had wanted desperately to accompany her mom to the nights events, to see a real life princess (Ellie had heard the news call Karen the princess of the Fitzgerald brood), but had instead resigned herself to the possibility of baking cupcakes with Abby, and then heading to grandma's to finish out her night.

In that moment, as Ellie's brows had furrowed in protest to the little one's current predicament, Olivia's mind had wandered to the possibility of finding Fitz and telling him the truth. She'd shoved the thoughts quickly from her mind as her son blazed a path nosily through her former office, followed by both Huck and Harrison.

"I didn't mean that!" Olivia retorted in defense, and attempted to regain some of her former composure. She could now hear her heartbeat thundering through her body. She felt as if she were suffocating, every word she spoke came out wrong, lost in translation.

"You just said that you were afraid that I'd hate the child growing inside you. That's why you didn't tell me that you were pregnant!"

"I . . ."

"No, Olivia. You didn't think I'd hate your child – you were afraid that I'd put our child first, before the presidency. That I'd walk away from everything, for you, for her." Fitz closed the gap between he and Olivia by pressing his large right hand across Olivia's empty abdomen, his left hand grabbing her waist.

So many times while she was pregnant, Olivia had wished to find herself in this position, with Fitz's hand placed lovingly over her abdomen, his strong voice speaking to the life growing inside her. But the hurt and pain present on Fitz's face now told a different tale; one in sharp contrast to Olivia's past hopes.

Startled, Olivia jumped, and dropped the nude coloured clutch in hand, and stared at Fitz. A few more tears rolled down his cheeks; they fell in synch with the one's slowly making their way down Olivia's face.

"And that there wouldn't have been a damn thing you could've done about it. It wouldn't have been a scandal to fix, but a life to love." He dropped his hand and shook his head, taking a step back from Olivia. The manner in which he recoiled from her made Olivia's heart sink.

Olivia stood still, eyes wide, frightened. She knew that Fitz would never physically hurt her, ever, but she could feel the shear heat, the power behind his actions, and she was scared. Scared because she'd hurt him (again); scared because she'd run from him; scared because she'd found herself in a situation that she had no idea how to fix.

"When I'd found out that you were pregnant, I'd hoped with just an inch of my brain – the part that wasn't boozed soaked, and Betty Ford ready, that you were pregnant with my child. But I stopped myself from thinking it was even possible. One minute you're in D.C, right down the street, the next you're Mrs. Edison Davis heading for upstate New York."

"Edison didn't want to wait after he found out . . ." she cast her eyes downward, toward her stomach, her mind floating back to the moment when Edison had found her on the bathroom floor, in front of the toilet in the wee hours of the morning. She'd tried to hide it from him until she'd been able to figure out her next move, but he'd figured it out; the man was a U.S Senator; he was far from stupid after all. He'd patted her back, brought her a cup of water, and then gleefully inquired about the nature of her current state. And Olivia had told him all too willingly; she'd become such a different person with Edison, the fire inside her had died, and she'd accepted that some things just happened.

Remorse and regret flashed across Fitz's face as Olivia spoke. Each time she uttered Edison's name, the pain in Fitz's face was more than apparent.

"You never gave me an option." Fitz whispered, shaking his head.

"I was wrong, Fitz . . ." Olivia offered, she knew her words were inadequate, but she knew she had to say something.

"Damn it, Olivia!" yelled Fitz, hastily undoing the band on his watch and throwing it, hard, at the wall behind him, above the bed. Good thing that although Fitz didn't use the presidential suite any longer, the hotel was currently only occupied by guests for Karen's wedding.

The face of the watch shattered and then hit the floor.

"He got to sit with you; go to doctor's appointments with you; massage your swollen feet; rub your swelling belly; hold your hand during delivery; hear her first cry; watch her first steps. That all could have been mine – ours – if you would have just told me! I would have sat with you through a DNA test. I would have done anything for you and our baby. You never gave me an option!" his voice cracked.

"If I'd come to you, Fitz, and I'd told you that I was pregnant, that there was a fifty percent chance the baby was Edison's too, what would you have said; what would you have done?"

"I don't know, Liv; I don't because you decided for me!"

"I thought I was doing the right thing!"

"For who?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" she shouted at him, at herself, crying. She wiped at her eyes.

"Not for me that's for damn sure. Why haven't you taken a test? Why?" Fitz demanded. "Why?"

"Because I'm afraid, Fitz. I'm terrified of the answer. I thought it'd be better if I never knew. Edison is a good father, and he adores Ellie. And because – because I screwed up! Now my child has to bear my mistakes."

"Do you love him?"

"Wh – What?" Olivia asked, confusion falling across her face as the line of questioning turned from Ellie, to Edison.

"Do you love him? You said he's a good father, is he a good husband? Do you love him? Is that why you didn't tell me?"

"Of course I love him, he's my husband; and he's a good father; and –" She told Fitz truthfully before he interrupted her.

"Are you in love with him?"

"I . . ." Olivia started, but paused, uncertain of the answer. She loved Edison, she did; they'd had a good seven years together; neither exciting nor passionate, but they'd managed. It'd always been a half-life for Olivia, though.

"Do you still love me?" Fitz questioned, his brows raised, his forehead wrinkled.

Olivia turned her eyes toward the ceiling, the gold detailing of the light fixture catching her attention as Fitz's question sailed through her thoughts. She knew what she should say, knew what she was suppose to say, but she couldn't do it. Olivia knew that she needed to put some distance between herself and Fitz; she knew that she should walk out of the hotel room, away from him, and back to her life. Olivia knew, yet . . .

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes meeting Fitz's. She shrugged her shoulders, throwing her hands in the air, signaling that she'd given up – in.

Fitz crossed the room, erasing the space he'd put between them only moments before so that he now stood centimeters from Olivia, his black dress shoes almost stepping on the bottom of her gown. With just enough power, and just enough force, Fitz placed his large hands on each side of Olivia's waist, and gently pulled her to him. He craned his neck to even out the height difference between them, and brought his lips down against hers, at first slow and gentle. After a few seconds when Olivia didn't push him away, he deepened the kiss, adding a sense of urgency to his actions.

And like a woman lost in the desert, searching for water to quench her thirst, Olivia responded, throwing all logical thoughts from her head. She tilted her head to allow her lips to mesh against his. When Fitz's tongue darted forward, begging for entrance, Olivia parted her lips, and her tongue instinctively sought out his. When he griped the fabric at her hips and pulled her forward, Olivia's arms came to rest atop his, gripping his upper arms as all perceivable space between them disappeared.

They breathed each other in, and the world around them quickly fell away.


	5. Fire & Ice

**A/N: I'm back from the dead, just not Billy Chambers bat-shit crazy back. I had the time of my life going abroad, and I can honestly say it was the best decision I've ever made. Now, I'm going to apologise here and now for the shortness of this chapter. I started writing it on a bus ride to Saigon ages ago, and then abandoned it. I'm afraid that when I returned to it a couple of days ago it was with a heavy heart and great sadness. I'm not going to go all political on any one or thing, but the verdict in Trayvon's trial completely tore me apart. That's all I will say. **

**Good news, however, is season three is in production and I can't wait. I can't take these Scandal-less days much longer. I'm thirsty as hell, not even going to lie. **

**I hope you enjoy this, however, and sorry I've been gone so long. **

* * *

Chapter 5: Fire & Ice

_You see the signs, but you can't read_  
_You're running at a different speed_  
_Your heart beats in double time_  
_Another kiss and you'll be mine,_

_A one-track mind, you can't be saved_  
_Oblivion is all you crave_  
_If there's some left for you_  
_You don't mind if you do_

-Addicted to Love (The Florence + Machine Cover)

Neither could recall how they'd reached their current position; Olivia, on her back, her hands yanking feverishly at Fitz's tuxedo; Fitz positioned between her legs, her gown pushed up mid-thy, his hands resting against her soft flesh as their mouths meshed together, their tongues battling for dominance as they slid against one another. Nor could they recall how the lamp and alarm clock that'd once sat at the bedside had ended up shattered and on the floor.

Coherent thoughts had long since fled her consciousness, and Olivia could barely recall how and why she'd ended up in this room with Fitz. What had they been so fiercely discussing mere moments prior, before logic had completely abandoned them?

Whatever it had been, at the current moment it mattered not. All that matter to both of them was the need to feel flesh against flesh. It'd been so long since they'd truly had the opportunity to trace the outline of each other's body in sweat along cotton sheets. So long since nimble fingers danced along bare backs and up strong, toned arms.

So long, yet each movement, each moment, was done in haste and passion for fear of it fleeing, being interrupted by the annoyingly persistent logic and reality both Olivia and Fitz currently fled.

Fitz's mouth broke from Olivia's and his lips trailed to her chin, and then her neck, rotating between trailing hot, warm kisses along her skin, and suckling her warm flesh. Every now and then he'd bite down gently, eliciting a soft, yet guttural moan from Olivia; her hands would stop trying to undo his tie and shirt buttons in order to dig her nails into his flesh.

Mind in a fog, eyes glassed over as if drugged, Olivia finally succeeded in pulling the tie from Fitz's neck.

Her hands immediately flew to the buttons of his dress shirt, some undone, some not, and she pushed it from his torso; Fitz's lips never broke from her neck.

"Uh..." Olivia moaned once more, and she arched into him, her back lifting off the bed as her hands found their way to his hair, dancing in victory; his shirt was gone. His once dark blonde hair was now peppered with silver strands of grey (which made him more attractive in Olivia's eyes), and showed the last seven years of turmoil he'd endured. His torso was now bare, and Olivia yearned to feel his flesh against hers; her gown be damned.

She tried - in vain - to wrap her legs around his midsection, but the material of her dress forbid so. Fitz caught onto her actions and sat back, Olivia following his lead as she contorted her tiny frame in an attempt to reach the well-hidden zipper of her gown. Fitz's larger hands covered hers, and pulled them away, bringing them to her sides and then letting them go, Olivia turned her back to him, and his hands immediately flew to her zipper. Painfully slow, he undid the blasted thing, wanting to rip it from her flesh as he'd almost done with her silk underwear minutes ago.

Once the zipper was undone, Olivia pulled the material from her top, letting it bunch around her waist as she turned back to Fitz. In that moment, all she wanted was to feel the warm flesh of his torso against her chest. But in due time, for once Fitz's eyes fell upon her barren top, clad only in a white, lace bra, they widened; his hands reached for her small shoulders, and he bent his head low, pressing his lips to first her collar bone, and then drew a wet path down the cleft of her breasts to her navel. He dipped his tongue into the sweet flesh of her navel, and then drew back, teasing her with his tongue. His large hands trailed down her sides, to her hips as his head made the move to venture lower. Meanwhile, his trousers had begun to grow uncomfortably painful against his more than apparent erection.

Fitz's lips had left a wet trail down Olivia's chest; what little cool air existed in the room chilled her – or perhaps it was the destination his mouth seemed to be headed for? Either way, Olivia's was lost – go so far off the deep end in her pleasure that it took her a moment to realize that Fitz had stopped. He was sitting up with one hand under Olivia's dress, resting on the side of her right thigh; his other hand, calloused fingers and all danced along her stomach, tracing what little stretch marks Olivia had, coming to rest at a scar, below her belly-button. Tears began to form in Fitz's eyes, a frown falling across his face.

Eyes wide and the fog of lust slowly – snail pace slow – began to lift. Olivia's brown eyes widened, and she sat up, Fitz still positioned between her legs. She reached out, a manicured hand closing over Fitz's as she sought to regulate her breathing. Half of her wanted to ask him what he was waiting for; she was here, ready to go. The other half of her, the sensible part that seemed to always rule over her, breathed in deeply, somewhat relieved. She had marriage vows, didn't she? (Like that'd ever had stopped them.)

"Livvie . . ." Fitz breathed, his breath still coming in bursts, his eyes never leaving the marks on her body.

"C-Section." Olivia responded, letting her hand drop from his atop his. She began to prop herself up on her elbows, sense and logic running back to her, bulldozing over her like a freight train. "Ellie had to be delivered by C-Section. I had preeclampsia, and didn't want to risk it . . . " she finished, her heart pounding.

Her thoughts wandered back, six years to when the doctor had diagnosed her with the condition - a could-be life threatening form of high blood pressure - just six weeks before her scheduled delivery. She'd been so scared - terrified, actually. No matter how much Edison and her parents had tried to reassure her everything was going to be alright, the comfort she needed, she didn't have; and it'd been all her fault.

"Livvie . . . " eyebrows furrowed together, Fitz whispered, a frown falling across his face as his voice pulled Olivia back to the present.

Fitz's grey eyes wandered up to Olivia's brown ones, and Olivia took a deep breath, squirming out from underneath him regrettably. One of his hands fell from her stomach, the other retracted from underneath her dress. The fire that had raged within her so fiercely moments before began to stifle. She broke her gaze from Fitz's, and closed her eyes; Ellie, Edison, and Owen's faces flashed across her eyelids.

Olivia's shoulder's slumped forward, and she brought her knees to her chest, a pained sob erupted from her throat, and hot tears flowed from her eyes. Olivia Pope – thee Olivia Pope – was crying.

"I've made such a mess of everything . . ." she whispered.

* * *

**Side note: I'm not good at writing smut at all. Hope that was somewhat sensual! Thanks for reading! **


	6. Hold On

**A/N: So sorry for taking such a long while to get this chapter up. I've had really bad writer's block, and just a lot going on personally. A lovely message from kortini23, however, managed to make me snap out of it, and I somehow managed to pull this together. I'm still not happy with it, but hey it's something. **

**Also, this story will be coming to a close soon. I know, I know - more questions than answers in regards to the story, but I WILL be making a sequel that will explore this situation in depth. Yes Olivia and Fitz have reconnected, but what does that mean when election time rolls around once more? And yes, I know Fitz is ineligible for office, but who said he'd be running? ;) Stay tuned! Hopefully I'll have the first chapter of that story up, and this one finished before I go under water in my last semester as an undergrad. **

**Also, sorry if there are any glaring errors. I've searched high and low, but the funny thing is I can never seem to find fault in my work at first glance. :P **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my macbook, and the caffeine I drank to write this story. **

**Hope you enjoy. **

**-M**

* * *

Chapter 6: Hold On

_If I ever had a wish in the whole world_  
_I would've listened to my brother when he spoke to me_  
_And I never would've played with my conscience_  
_In the fields where I was in their company_

-Ellie Goulding, "In my City"

Pieces. Olivia Carolyn Davis-Pope had fallen to pieces; shattered and undone by her own hand. Perhaps, she considered, Reston had been right years ago when he'd told her she was poison; that everything she touched turned to hell, and that she ruined anyone and everything around her. Perhaps unknowingly she was the devil, just as Billy Chambers had concluded.

Or perhaps she was just a woman, standing a grand total of 5'4 – below the average height of 5'5 – who'd only wanted to fix things; to make them better, whom for seven years seemed to pay for her sins each time she peered into her daughter's eyes.

Either way, Olivia was a distraught mess at the moment; her dress was bunched around her waist, and tears streamed down her face. The more she tried to halt her tears, the harder she cried. Breathe in, then out, she told herself, but her efforts seemed to fall short.

All Olivia could focus on was the mess she'd made. She was a fixer; she fixed people and things, and yet she couldn't fix this. She didn't know how. She'd run from the possible truth for so long that once confronted with it, her body collapsed under the weight of supporting a lie.

And then he was there, like a beam of light through a room full of darkness, his strong arms wide open, and softness in his expression – a grand contrast to how he'd cast her aside years prior after finding out about Defiance.

"Olivia," Fitz whispered, his hand reaching out towards her; she just shook her head, her eyes glossed over with the ghost of decisions past as she refused to meet his gaze.

At that moment, Olivia felt as if she wasn't worthy enough of Fitz's touch – his consideration; she didn't deserve it. Nor did she feel that she deserved the ring on her finger, or the children who lovingly called her Mommy; not after everything she'd done.

"Don't, Fitz. Don't." Her voice cracked, the tears that once fell began to dry, and her throat went hoarse as silent sobs wracked her body.

Resting her chin on her knees, breathing in deeply, Olivia spoke, "I ruined you; I ruined everything. Ellie, Edison, Owen – You. I destroyed it; it can't be fixed, or undone. Ruined."

There was finality to her tone, a sense of hopelessness and regret that scared Olivia. For so long she'd been so keen at keeping all thoughts of Ellie's paternity at bay. She'd remembered long ago telling Verna that everything was fixable – but oh how wrong she had been. Verna had been right; lies always had a way of showing through, like one big bloody hospital gown. How was she ever going to fix this? How _could_ she fix this?

More silent sobs wracked Olivia's tiny frame, and suddenly the room felt drafty, cold. She'd gone from hot, and full of steam, ready to break her marriage vows in seconds, to a shell of a woman, collapsing under the weight of the world. There'd only been a handful of times when Olivia felt like she currently did, the weight of the world was against her. The most prominent time being when Defiance had almost been exposed.

Funny, Olivia noted internally, how that one moment had paved the way for her current predicament. But in truth, she knew better: a serious of moments, some for better, some for worse, all amoral, had led her to her current predicament.

"I thought too much, and I thought that I got what I wanted. Jam and babies." She whispered, her voice monotone as the sobs slowed. Closing her eyes, Olivia breathed in, her arms still wrapped tightly around her knees. Underneath her, she could feel Fitz's weight shift in her direction, the plump mattress sagging as his body grew close. He grabbed her arm, and attempted to pull her from her current position.

For a few moments, Olivia stubbornly fought him, refusing to unfold herself from the ball she'd been in; after a few more tugs, however, Olivia found herself melting into Fitz's form. Together their bodies became one in the purest of ways. Fitz's chin rested lightly atop Liv's head, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and his strong arms wrapped tightly around her tiny frame.

Were jam and babies what she'd truly wanted, or had they been the easiest of ways out?

"Just one minute." Fitz's deep voice whispered, words of comfort spilling from his lips as he shushed her. "Livvie, just don't. For one minute just sit here with me. Don't think about Ellie or Defiance, or anything. Just sit, and breathe in this moment with me."

And for one minute, Olivia cried as she'd never cried before; years of pent up emotion overtaking her.

For so long she'd fought too many times to prevent this flood of regret, heartbreak, and heart ache from overcoming her. She'd told herself time in and time out that she'd made the right now. When Fitz had successfully brokered a peace deal – a détente between two feuding countries – Olivia told herself that that would not have happened had she been in the picture. When he'd managed to push through a bill to lower student loan rates to 2.3%, Olivia assured herself that had she been in the picture with a baby on her hip, his head would have been in the game to make such a push. Any lie that she could spin inside her head to reassure that she'd made the right decision, not just for herself, but also for her daughter (just the mere thought of all the media attention Ellie would have received had their affair came to light) was made justifiable had she tried hard enough.

Sniffling through tears, as their minute ticked to a close, Olivia spoke, "I thought you'd left me, I truly thought you had. I didn't want to die alone – unloved. So I did something stupid. And I can't tell you that I did it for you, not this time." She pulled away from him, a bitter smile of realization falling across her face.

"Because I didn't. I did it for me. I tried to fix myself; create my own life – and in the process I blew up your life, Edison's, and my daughter's," a dark chuckle, laced with a grimace, left her lips.

Eyelids heavy with tears, and red from crying, Olivia's brown eyes searched Fitz's face trying to gauge his reaction at her admission.

Olivia Pope had admitted to being wrong. Hell, anyone else would have been throwing a party – streamers flying everywhere, party hates, and whistles. Even when the Olivia Pope was wrong, she was right; it was just who she was.

But Fitz – Fitz was silent, his greyish blue eyes clouded, his forehead wrinkled, and a slight frown to his mouth. He sat back, loosening his grip on Olivia, his hand trailing to her stomach. A calloused finger traced what few stretch marks Olivia had on her still exposed stomach.

"I gained thirty-three pounds with Ellie; twenty-seven with Owen." She confided, feeling exposed and cut open, but unable to find the energy or will to cover herself. "I didn't think I'd ever loose the weight, but I did – just in time to learn I was pregnant again," she smirked. "Twenty-seven pounds later, I had a son; took forever to loose the weight. But I didn't sleep much after he was born. Edison really took care of him, I couldn't – I just couldn't." Olivia's thoughts drifted from the situation at hand for a moment, and drifted into days of past.

She could hear Owen screaming for nourishment, for attention, for something – anything – if it meant his mother's attention, but Olivia had frozen. She'd known the cry was her baby, her child, but she hadn't been able to help him. Although he'd come from her body, the first seven months of Owen's life, Olivia had suffered with PPD; a fact she wasn't proud about. Had it not been for Edison, along with Abby, and her mother, she'd have never survived.

"PPD?" Fitz asked, his fingers softly stroking her skin, his words breaking through Olivia's thoughts.

His words caught her off guard; it'd taken her forever to admit her issue to herself, let alone others. "Yeah. But I managed to break through it with some help. I know, me asking for help, but I had to."

Fitz nodded understandingly. "I had PTSD when I returned from the Gulf. It's not the same thing – not in the slightest, but I know what it's like to feel out of control of your emotions, your actions – and you're afraid to say anything because you don't want anyone to think you're crazy. I'm glad you were strong enough to pull through it, Livvie." His fingers stopped, and with a heavy sigh, he shifted in place.

Once again his hands found their way to her body, this time to pull her dress up, the fabric soft underneath his fingertips. He helped her slip her arms through the sleeves of her gown. Once the dress was secured to her front, he stood up and walked around Olivia's tiny form, and zipped up her dress; he then sat back down, taking a seat next to her.

A silence fell between them with Olivia starring at her hands, her wedding band beaming bright back at her.

"How much did Ellie weigh?" Asked Fitz, breaking the silence, his voice low as he wrung his hands together.

As he spoke, Olivia turned towards him, her eyes falling to his hands. He was missing his wedding band. How had she not seen that earlier? Surely she'd know if he and Mellie had divorced- wouldn't she? What would it even matter to her?

She averted her eyes, however, and looked up, thinking back to the question at hand.

"6lbs, 3ozs. The most beautiful baby in the world. I swear she smiled at me when Dr. Yang put her in my arms."

"I bet she did." Fitz smiled, folding his arms in front of him as he leaned against the headboard. "When did she start walking?"

"Two months before her first birthday. She had only crawled a couple of times, and seemed to get frustrated with it, but once she could pull herself up and get her feet under her, she didn't seem to stop. She walked like rapid fire . . ."

"Karen started walking a month before her first birthday."

"Do you want to see a picture from early today?" Olivia asked, although she wasn't even certain what time it was or if today was still 'today'. They'd been together longer than the original minute Fitz had asked for, way longer.

Olivia didn't wait for Fitz to answer, instead she got to her feet, and searched out the wallet she'd carried into the room with her. She found it on the floor, near the edge of the bed. She reached inside and grabbed her phone, bypassing two text messages; one from Abby, the other Huck – and one missed call from Edison.

She began sliding through her photo album, bypassing candid photos of her every day life until she reached the photo of she and Ellie. In the photo, Ellie sat on Olivia's lap, her naturally pink lips formed into a pout, blowing a kiss to the camera, as Olivia did the same. Ellie's long, curly brown hair hung down her shoulders in pigtails, and her brown eyes shined bright. Olivia remembered the photo fondly as she turned on her heels and head back to the bed where Fitz sat. Sitting down, she handed him her phone, as she attempted to gauge his reaction.

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen . . ." Fitz spoke, his forehead crinkling as he smiled wide.

"She is." Olivia agreed. "There's more pictures in there, if you want to see. Most of them are of Ellie and Owen, every now and then there's a picture of me." She laughed softly, some how feeling light and free – freer and lighter than she had in a long time.

Fitz smiled, and handed her back her phone. Once again Olivia took note of his missing wedding band (he'd taken the phone in his left hand).

Curiosity got the better of Olivia, and her eyes lingered just a little too long on the spot where the rind once sat; it'd been her nemesis for years.

She was just getting ready to ask Fitz about the missing accessory – which is what it'd been to him for all those years, a simple accessory, when her phone rang; it was her husband.

* * *

**Sidenote:** Yes, Dr. Yang is a nod to Cristina Yang, even though she isn't a gynecologist. ;)


End file.
